A Filthy Filch's Magical Nightmare: Dumbledore's Grayest Shade
by AlexLee90
Summary: Argus Filch's greatest secret is revealed to a fellow squib who is currently a Muggle therapist, Dr. Bumbledell Doras. Find out what his lovely and dirty secret is.


A Filthy Filch's Magical Nightmare: Dumbledore's Grayest Shade

By Alex Lee

My final visit to the therapist. Strange woman. Her name for instance is Dr. Bumbledell Doras. A distant relative of the headmaster Dumbledore. A fellow squib who made her living in the Muggle world. Distant relative or not, she could be his twin sister, with the tall, lanky awkwardness offset by warm twinkling eyes framed by her half mooned spectacles. But surely, this wasn't him. It couldn't be.

Dr. Doras after a long silence finally spoke.

"Mr. Filch. You've been seeing me for a week with no progress. You still crave torturing, punishing, and flogging people, I believe?"

You see, the professors of Hogwarts have all agreed that no magic would remedy my sadistic tendencies. Thus they recommended me this muggle loving, squib therapist: Dr. Dumbledell Doras.

"Equally!" I trembled.

Dr. Doras spoke: For weeks now, Mr. Filch, you've been obsessing over the word equally. Yes, so you'd like to torture all people equally. But I'm suspicious. The way you force yourself to say equally makes me think otherwise.

"I don't know what you're talking about Dr. Doras. I like to torture and flog all people equally! Men women, children!"

"Old men?" She asked.

"Of course I'd like to torture old men. I'm not bias."

Dr. Doras said, "I don't buy it. Argus. Argus, I can't do anything about you finding pleasure in torturing people. Some people are born sadistic. But who is forcing you to say you'd like to torture and flog all people equally? Surely, Argus, you must have a preference. Do you enjoy torturing and flogging girls, for instance? I want to get to the bottom of this Argus."

"Don't you dare say the world bottom!" I shouted.

"Please Argus, you can trust me. I'm your therapist after all. Tell me what's wrong. You're lying aren't you? You don't want to torture all people equally. You have a preference. Let's be honest for once."

The twinkle in her eyes made me feel as though I could trust her. So I told her, "The twinkle in your eyes makes me feel like I can trust you!" So I told her, this obsessive fear of mine, why, I felt forced to say I wanted to flog all people _equally._

The truth is, Dr. Doras, I've always preferred torturing and flogging beautiful young ladies. And I've always known I'm a sick evil creep. A monster. So I went to the only person I thought might help: The headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. He never had the slightest hesitation in hiring me. He just looked at me said, 'You're hired.' With a twinkle in his eyes. Me, a squib. He, the greatest wizard of all time, kind enough to see me as his equal. Me. Argus Filch, an equal, a magicless little squib, often called Anus Filth by the children

With the usual charming twinkle in his eyes, Dumbledore often joked, or at least, I thought it was a joke then, that "There is great destiny concealed in nicknames."

I almost snapped at him, what kind of destiny is concealed in Anus Filth

I asked him then for a possible potion or cure to nullify my desires of torturing and floggingbeautiful young ladies.

Dumbledore whispered, "Argus there is nothing I can do about your sexism."

"But I am not a sexist." I told him.

"But you only want to torture girls." He retorted.

"_Beautiful_ girls. That doesn't mean I'm a sexist."

"If you could find true equality in your heart, Argus, seeing beautiful women as valuable as the next human being, wizard and witch, then would it not be true that that you'd want to torture all people, equally?"

Then Dumbledore blabbed on and on about how every person was welcome at Hogwarts, How just because I was a wizard born muggle, and a sexist, he kept reminding me, that I wasn't any less than anyone else, that I had only to control my sadistic urges. And perhaps, how I might even make use of them. He gave me a twinkling wink, directing my attention to the hallway below where a much older girl was tormenting a young first year student.

Now what was the older girl, or older girls rather, doing at Hogwarts? The new dark arts professor, Professor Adonis was considered the handsomest man in the wizarding world. One often wonders why Dumbledore hired him at all, a talentless man who knew nothing about the Dark Arts. Female hormones ran rampant, those of not just the children, but the female staff. Some swooned. Or rather all swooned in his presence. But out of his sight, all the girls became violent, the competition cruel, Professor McGonagall jinxing and poisoning every single female staff, including the nurse Madam Pomfrey, along with many young girls. Professor Adonis was such a hit that many of the girls who graduated Hogwarts, feigned magical amnesia, explained how the Deatheaters had jinxed them and made them forget all about magic, and requested an additional few years at Hogwarts. Dumbledore, with twinkling eyes, approved their request. The young boys with bulging eyes and erect wands admired Dumbledore's approval.

There was one young lady in the bunch, in particular, an 18 year old, who had already graduated. THE Lenore. Granted, immensely talented and beautiful. The most demonstrably flirty with Adonis. But the Dark Arts professor remained professional, of course, hoping to last more than a year, eager to beat the long-standing curse. Lenore was violent. Brutal. She would torture the young girls, threaten to blind them, if they ever laid their worthless eyes on Adonis, her magic so powerful that even professor McGonagall was afraid. Some suggested she was the next dark lord.

On the floor below it was Lenore torturing one of the younger girls, levitating her in the air, and spinning her around.

So I said carefully, "Headmaster, are you giving me permission to punish and flog THE Lenore?"

"There are times Argus when the worst offenders, including myself," he said with a twinkle and a wink, "must be disciplined, and flogged, in order to be taught a lesson. Now may be the time."

You see, professor Dumbledore allowed me to keep my secret dungeon. Occasionally gave me permission to torture the worst offenders at Hogwarts. Then he would use his magic to make the children forget all about the punishment, but never the pain. Smart man, Dumbledore was.

Lenore grudgingly accepted to come to my office in the evening, only after threatening that she would kill me, and make it look like suicide.

Sometime in the evening, extremely nervous and scared of the torture to come, I went to the restroom to take a giant poop. But I was shocked to find more trouble: A boy and girl began to drink what looked like a bumbling thick alcoholic beverage. I yelled, "You dare drink alcohol and do your little sex business in the restroom! You are barely twelve years old. How dare you!"

"Sir, it's…it's not alcohol…"

"What is it then?!"

"It's…nothing"

"What is it I said"

"It's…nothing."

"You say it's nothing one more time. I will turn you into nothing."

"That's impossible. You don't even know magic. You're just a filthy little squib."

"You call me squib one more time…"

"What you'll hex me? You're just a filthy squib."

"I'm going to kill you, you stupid child!"

"Someone's extremely mad. Calm down Mr. Filth. It's just …Poly…juice."

"You stupid children, you think I'll fall for that. Poly juice, just juice. What kind of juice looks so menacing?"

I confiscated the two cups of the so-called poly…juice and went to my office. Poly juice. Such nonsense. It was no juice. It was alcohol, I thought naively. But how I was supposed to know what it really was then? Ridden with angst and doubts, guilty, yet famished for torture, I decided to gulp down the first cup of what I thought was alcohol, leaving the other for Lenore—out of whimsical kindness, so that it may dull her senses for the painful flogging to come. But what kind of alcohol tasted like horseshit. Immediately, I felt the strangest sensation. Rather it was immense pain. I was bent double. I clutched one arm tightly around my stomach. My body and mind were in shock. My vision red. Bloodshot eyes staring into my boiling body.

I was bubbly. Rotting away. I begged for mercy. I couldn't die now. I had so much to do. So many beautiful ladies to flog and torture. I could've had a love life, with Mrs. Norris, my lovely cat. A decent, ordinary love life. How could this be, that I, Argus Filch, I was going to die, so young, me Argus Filch, the unloved, the pitiful Argus Filch, cursed to be a squib, tormented by children, who called Filthy Anus, killed, without vengeance, without justice, poisoned by children, who tricked me, told me it was Poly juice.

But just as suddenly as the pain started, it stopped.

There were several rude knocks on the door.

"Hey Filthy Anus, are you in there?" Lenore shouted.

Lenore entered.

I told her assertively: "I was given permission by the headmaster to punish your body, young lady. Your body, for the next few hours, is at my disposal." I sounded a little different to my own ears, but my attention preferred Lenore's look of real terror.

"_You're_ here!" she said, suspiciously, with a squeak.

"Of course I'm here."

After all, I did get permission from Dumbledore. She couldn't do anything about it. How would she like it to have her body suspended in the air, as my laughter drowned out her tears? Oh the joys of flogging pretty young girls!—so I thought.

She had called me Anus, filthy Anus. I considered making her pay, making her drink the cup of that so-called poly juice. That stupid poison concocted by the filthy children. Would the poison make the pain all the worse? Maybe kill her?

"Drink this now…it's to…um…dull your pain…"

She drank it immediately, cringing with disgust at the so-called Poly Juice.

Then she said, in almost a squeak, uncharacteristic of her usual vulgarity: "Is it true, sir, that you're going to torture me. Make use of my body…for a long, long time." Here she started to go red. "Don't you think it's about time we get things started, sir?"

"What!?"

I couldn't believe my eyes and ears. Lenore. The Lenore. The next dark lord, according to rumors. She was calling me a _sir._ She hardly called the headmaster a _sir._

I was suspicious, but proceeded. "Come with me." I told her.

"I shall always come with you." She said suspiciously.

Together we stepped into our secret, dark, underground dungeon, suspicious, almost anticipating a surprise attack from Lenore.

Then she said, with a squeak, slightly blushing. "But professor, we're not allowed to have teacher-student relationships."

I couldn't stand the confusion. "Look Lenore, I may be a handsome man, but I have no interest in having sexual intercourse with children. You're barely 18. I'm nearly 50. You are here to be severely punished."

"I understand, but professor Adonis…you look awfully young for your age. Professor Adonis, I've been a bad girl. Would you like to teach me a physical lesson that I shall never forget. Will you whip my smooth naked body? Torture my youth and innocence. Then clutch my naked body tight against your bosom back to my dormitory?"

What was going on! Was this a joke. I looked at the reflection in a mirror which was conveniently in the room. There he was, Professor Adonis. I had become professor Adonis.

Then she took out her wand. I froze. The supposed next evil lord, the Lenore, right her, right now, was playing a prank on me, after all, as all the children have, I thought, when suddenly she murmured something softly. In my dungeon, I had all these devices, appliances of torture, of whips, of lashes, of chains, of ropes, of collars, of nipple clamps, needles, slapping pads, handcuffs, restraints, phallic weapons, things that any muggle should have for self-protection. She would at any moment now, with a slight wave of her wand, use all of them against me, I thought. But instead a large snake appeared from her wand, and fell to ground, inflating, and growing in size, until it stood erect, at least 10 feet high and about a foot wide, baring its fangs, but staying in its place.

"If you ever decide Professor Adonis, to hold back, against my punishment." Lenore stared into her snake. "I need you to punish me, professor. Flog me hard. Teach me a lesson that I shall never forget."

"What!?"

I began to tremble. I forced myself as fast as I could to move, to hurry this along, to tie her up in the middle of the dungeon, the chains and apparatus hanging from the dark gloomy ceiling. Lenore wouldn't allow me to restrict her hands and confiscate her wand, in case, she told me, I wasn't pleasing her very much.

Crazy bitch. So I told her. "You think, my punishment, my flogging is meant to satisfy you? I will show you a thousand shades of displeasure!"

As soon as I was about to whip her with my lash, she screamed, "WAIT!"

"What!?"

"I forgot to take my clothes off!"

"You will keep your clothes on, young lady, for your punishment."

Then she squeaked. "How is it going to hurt me, how is it going to be _real_ punishment, if I'm wearing my clothes?!"

So we made a compromise. She would disrobe, keep her undergarments on, revealing most of her flesh, though she insisted on full nudity.

She wanted punishment, so I would give her punishment. True punishment. Unexpected. So, I said, Lenore, look over there, pointing to her left.

She placed her face in profile.

Then I slapped her face with the palm of my hands.

Lenore started at me with angry, deadly eyes. "You slap my face again you son of a bitch, I'll kill you." The chains slid off her body as though her skin oozed with oil. She kicked me in the stomach and hexed me with her wand. I vomited. Several minutes later, she begged forgiveness, cried how much she loved me, said she realized that sometimes her beauty aroused a slap in the face, suggested instead pouring a glass of milk onto her face instead to humiliate her, and then cried how much she needed her punishment now.

"Spank my butt instead please." Lenore requested.

"I will not spank your butt."

"You will spank my butt now, or else." She turned her head to the erect snake.

"Of course I'll spank your butt!" But right as I was about to spank her butt, she said, "WAIT!"

"What!?"

Lenore squeaked, "I'm not really in the mood. Say something to make me feel vulnerable."

"What!?"

"I need you to make me feel helpless and sexy and beautiful at the same time. Or else."

"I have had enough of these games young lady," I told her, assertively. "Just because you're beautiful and everyone is afraid of you, you think I'm going to let you off the hook. I will break your will, demonstrate true fear and pain."

She started moaning in apparent pleasure.

Then I whipped her. Whipped her bare back. Flogged her, Massacred her sweet innocent flesh. She didn't bleed. But the redness was sweet. I anticipated the sobbing, the cries, the imploring eyes for me to stop, but then I saw it. The pure joy on her face.

"Why are you stopping now?" Lenore asked.

"You're enjoying this far too much."

"Professor Adonis, if you don't continue to punish me, sir, if you don't continue to flog me hard, satisfy me…" She turned to the snake.

So I shook, trembled, screamed like a girl inside, and immediately whipped her, hard. As fast as I could. Again and again. But Lenore must have used her magic to protect herself from any real blows. As much as I tried to make her bleed, her body turned a sweet, slight red, as though she had been lightly slapped. Her butt, her breasts, everything except her face, was stained with my muted disgust, and cushioned hateful lashes. How unpleasurable to torture, to punish, to flog, according to her rules and commands, those of the victim, my victim.

Then suddenly she screamed in pain, for the first time. Not the moaning of pleasure. A real scream. I smiled. Happy. Finally. Then her skin started rotting and bubbling, and heating up. What was happening!? I didn't care what was happening, overjoyed that she was actually hurting, finally suffering, I continued whipping her, lashing her, flogging. Suffer you little bitch. But as soon as she stopped screaming, as soon as the bubbling and rotting stopped, I saw it, I saw her. My heart stopped. I dropped my whip. Shocked. Stunned. Afraid.

"Professor McGonagall, I didn't know it was you all along."

"I'm not Professor McGonagall you idiot. I'm Lenore."

"You look just like Professor Mcgonagall."

Apparently, the _innocent_ children had made what was known as Polyjuice potion. Potion to transform themselves into another person. But why did they choose Professor Adonis and Professor McGonagall?

Professor McGonagall, I mean Lenore, raised her wand, produced some strange magic to see her own reflection.

"Just because I'm old, doesn't mean I'm no longer floggable. Flog me! Flog me hard! You stupid bitch!"

"I don't want to flog you."

"So…it's true then, you hate old people!"

At Professor McGonagall's threats, which were really Lenore's, I continued whipping and flogging her again and again.

Professor McGonagall, I mean Lenore, continued to moan in pleasure, beg for more.

Then suddenly _I_ felt the pain. I screamed, Pain threatening the death of all my senses. Harsh scathing pain. My skin started bubbling and rotting away. I was turning back to my old self. I could feel it. I could smell my own stench.

Professor McGonagall, or Lenore, gasped, stared at me, shocked, as though she had been humiliated…She pointed her wand to her snake, rethought the matter, made it disappear, smoothly slipped off her chains, as though they had only been an illusion, pointed her wand at my chest. Directly at my heart.

"You sick freak. You pedophile. You drank polyjuice potion, to turn into Professor Adonis, just to have sex with me!"

"I didn't have sex with you. And you're 18 years old."

"Don't play games with me Argus Filch, you Filthy Anus, I'm going to make you suffer, you tricked me, you disgusting little squib!"

"I didn't trick you. Please. Please don't kill me. Professor Mcgonagall."

"I'm not Professor McGonagall you idiot. I'm Lenore."

She hexed me. She jinxed me. I suffered, but nothing serious. But as soon as she was about to apparently kill me, I felt the shocking terror, the death of all my senses. I started bubbling, rotting away, the pain unbearable. I had turned back into Professor Adonis.

Professor Mcgonagall, I mean Lenore, squeaked: "Oh professor! I'm so sorry. I thought you were Mr. Filch! I didn't mean to harm you. Are you all right. Shall we continue professor?"

My mind went blank. I was stunned. I was clearly going to die. Perhaps I was put under the imperius curse. Because, instead of running away, which I sought, I proceeded to whip her, half conscious, half dead, a half naked Professor Mcgonagall, writhing with pleasure and joy, with such satisfaction that it became palpable torture, for me. I whipped her. Her bra slipped off. I screamed in terror. Then she screamed in terror. She was in pain. Yes. Stupid little bitch. Feel the pain. Her skin was rotting, bubbling, boiling once again. I anticipated the transformation, to see the sweet smooth body of Lenore, preferring the sweet, soft and young flesh of something young, sweet, but instead, my heart stopped. I dropped my whip. Shocked. Stunned. Afraid.

Apparently, it was an unstable, badly made poly juice potion, made by stupid second year students. What I saw before me was neither Professor McGonagall, nor Lenore. A three hundred pound naked lady, some unknown staff, or perhaps some witch from Hogsmeade.

"Why have you stopped now?" Lenore asked me.

She raised her wand, produced some strange magic to see her own reflection.

Then she said. "So…You don't want to whip me anymore, just because I turned fat?"

"What!?"

"You superficial ass. She said. You will proceed to whip me now, lash me, flog me hard, or else…"

A green light danced around her wand, menacingly.

I choked up. I couldn't speak. I was mad. I was scared. Afraid. Of death. Of murder. Tears ran down my cheeks, her wholesome sight mutilating my eyes. I trembled as I whipped her again and again. Her skin jiggled as though my whip were bouncing on a waterbed. I didn't want this. I only wanted to flog and flog beautiful young girls. Sleek. Tender. Innocent looking. Fresh. Not this. No. She was much too overweight. A nightmare.

Then her skin bubbled and rotted and boiled once again. Lenore writhed in pain. She screamed. The only second of my true satisfaction. These transitions, these painful transformations. Thus I whipped her, satisfied, happy. She screamed, I yelped for joy. Hooray! Suffer you bitch! I didn't care who she was turning into, I just wanted her to suffer! Then suddenly I gasped in horror. My heart stopped. I dropped my whip. Shocked. Stunned. Afraid.

"Why have you stopped flogging me now?" Lenore asked me. She raised her wand, produced some strange magic to see her own reflection.

"So…now you don't want to flog me anymore, just because I'm Black? You racist ass! You will whip me now, flog me, and caress me, or I'll tell everybody how much of a racist you are!"

"I can't flog you!"

"Flog me you racist punk. Flog me. Spread my legs and—"

"Shut up! We are not having sex you stupid little girl!"

"You're calling me stupid, just because I turned black? Racist punk. I'm telling everybody!"

"What!?"

Then there were several knocks on the dungeon door.

"Argus Filch! Argus Filch!" It was Dumbledore. "Stop what you're doing immediately!"

Eager to escape, and believing Dumbledore was on the other side of the door, I opened the door to the secret dungeon, but found no one standing there.

All of a sudden, there he was, standing right beside me, Dumbledore, folding up what turned out to be an invisibility cloak. Apparently he was hiding inside the dungeon, watching the whole scene unfold, this whole time. We all waited and stood silently as the polyjuice potion ran its course, with Dumbledoore looking extremely disappointed. I turned back to myself, Argus filch, Lenore, turned back to herself, realized my true identity, flicked me off, gestured to cut my throat, slowly.

She ran out of the dungeon.

I panicked.

"You have to help me Headmaster. Lenore is going to kill—"

"I am disappointed in you, Argus." The headmaster said.

"Headmaster…"

"I have tried to teach you the meaning of equality. We are all equals Argus. But is it true that you hate fat people. That you hate black people."

"What!?"

"You were born without any magic. But sometimes, the truest source of magic lies in our own hearts. In our kindness, in our capacity to see all people equally. To treat them accordingly."

"Headmaster…"

"You find pretty young women, girls half your age, highly floggable. Argus. You want to torture them. You want to flog them all night long. Your preference is bias and prejudice. What is it about young boys, my dear Argus, that makes them unfloggable? Do you find boys less worthy, less valuable, less human, less of a wizard, than beautiful girls?"

"Headmaster…please. This has nothing to do with matters of equality!"

"Sh...Sh…Sh…Argus…Argus… Argus. This has everything to do with matters of equality. Everything. And Argus, what is about…much older men, like myself? Have you never had the slightest urge to punish and flog older men?"

My heart stopped. I dropped my whip. Shocked. Stunned. Afraid.

"Despite my age, Argus, I am still the most powerful wizard in the world. There is much magic and wisdom in these bones, but what is it about me Argus that makes me less desirable to flog? Do I sag? Should I drink some potion to turn myself into a beautiful sleek young lady, just so you may flog me. I have treated you with warm kindness. I have always shown you the light of the twinkle in my eyes. Yet you don't want to flog me!"

"Flog you for what, Headmaster. I don't understand. You've gone mad!"

"No, Argus, I've gone Gay."

"Headmaster, just because you're gay, doesn't mean you have to do this."

"Argus. I said I've gone GREY. GREY"

"No you didn't."

"Just because I'm gay, Argus, doesn't mean I'm going to use that as an excuse for all my guilty pleasures."

Then he slowly disrobed. White hair, sagging skin, white curtains and some slithering snake. I screamed in terror. Tears ran down my face. I saw the bare naked flesh of the famous and invincible Albus Dumbledore, the greatest gayest, I mean, greyest, wizard in the world.

"Now Mr. Filch. Shall we begin?"

"No!" I cried. "Begin what. I don't want this. I can't do this. Please stop headmaster! Why? Why are you doing this to me?"

"Sh…Argus. Argus. Argus. Quiet. I'm merely trying to teach you a lesson. After flogging me, you will learn to see the true meaning of equality."

"That doesn't make sense… at all… Headmaster!"

"Sh…Argus…Argus…Argus…Now. Let me be clear, Argus, you will tie me up, flip me and lay me down, punish my buttocks, spank it, grab it, love it. Argus you will punish my rear, otherwise I will show you why I am the only wizard Voldemort fears!"

Then all of a sudden, terror, fear, pain. My skin was boiling and bubbling. The unstable polyjuice potion was acting up once again. Once again, I had transformed back into Professor Adonis.

Dumbledore dropped his mouth. Shocked. Stunned. Afraid. "SO IT WAS YOU ALL ALONG! Professor Adonis, how dare you." Dumbledore cried. "This was a moment of my vulnerability that I wished to share with Mr. Filch, and Mr. Filch alone. How dare you deceive me Adonis? I require someone filthy looking, rough, a man's man, real dirty, to humiliate my rear. Not you, Professor Adonis, I'd rather flog you!"

He hexed me, he jinxed me, I suffered, but he eventually let me go. I was saved. In the next few years I destroyed the secret dungeon, several times, as it was resurrected, each time it was burnt to the ground. Then I moved offices, took leaves of absence, tried to avoid Dumbledore. But the image of his rear, a lashed, a flogged rear would always haunt my nightmares. Every night I would have them, everynight I would sob my eyes out.

I was crying now, in front of Dr. Bumbledell Doras. She tried waking me from my slumber of trauma. "It's going to be okay. Sweetheart. It's going to be okay." She told me. "You're safe now. With me. I'm glad you told me this secret of yours. The truth."

"Do you believe me Dr. Doras? The headmaster is a crazy man!"

"Of course I do sweetheart. Of course he is."

Then she twinkled her eyes." But is it true, Argus, that you still have not changed your preference… You still don't want to punish all people equally? Dr. Doras asked me.

"Whaattt? Of course not. I don't care about flogging people equally. I was just lying because I was tramautized."

"So you don't want to punish Dumbledore's rear?"

"No! Of course not!"

"I'm sad Argus. You disappointed me."

"What!?"

"All this time has passed. And yet, you have not learned the true beauty, the true meaning, of equality."

"What!?"

"You have known me this past week as Dr. Bumbledell Doras. It is an anagram to conceal my true identity. My true name is Albus Dumbledore."

Then the transformation was complete. He hardly used any magic. He simply grew several feet taller, his beard grew from his clean shaven skin. Then he took off his wig. Then he ripped open his dress.

"Dumbledore, please stop! I've learned my lesson! I want to torture everybody! Flog everyone equally. Every single child, every single adult male or female!"

"Except me. Argus. Except me. You have eluded me once before. But now you must torture me Argus. Flog my rear, love it. Punish it, my dear. Otherwise I will show you why I am the only wizard Voldemort fears!"


End file.
